


Her tongue doesn't fit, so she must scream

by serenitysolstice



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: F/F, tw: shutdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 16:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysolstice/pseuds/serenitysolstice
Summary: Autistic!Ann experiences a shutdown without having the language to describe herself.





	Her tongue doesn't fit, so she must scream

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know this isn't historically accurate. No, I don't care. This is a take on a fictional Ann Walker, and a fictional Anne Lister, please leave the historical inconsistancies out of it. 
> 
> This was written after a series of asks sent to Sapphic-Ann-Walker on Tumblr. I honestly didn't expect the headcanon to get any real notice, so it was nice to see a couple of other people agree with me on it.

It's the bang from the kitchen, she thinks, that does it. The unexpected loud noise, combined with the latest interrogation from Mrs Priestly that shoots through her skull and traps her there, alone, a prisoner inside her own brain.  
  
She can't breathe. Why can't she breathe? Ann gulps and gulps at the air around her, hand pressed tight against her chest but that just makes things worse. There's someone speaking in the distance, heard as though underwater, her head aches and she _still can't breathe_.   
"I-" She manages to get out, but the rest of the sentence is swallowed by the cavern of her mouth, her tongue feels too big, its choking her words. Standing abruptly, she offers nothing but a quick nod to her cousin, the best dismissal she can offer under the circumstances. She'll worry about the tribe's fallout later. And, oh god, there will be a fallout, won't there? There's going to be more rumours, more people talking about her like she's insane and what if she is, what if she's doomed now to choke to death standing in her entryway, mute and helpless?   
  
Ann takes a deep, shuddering breathe, tries to think. Her lungs are broken and, so it seems, is her mind. Very well then. She can still move, and she can still form coherent sentences. Suddenly, Ann is upstairs at her writing desk, with no memory of moving, urgent letter scribbled in shaky handwriting.   
  
**My dearest Anne,**  
  
 **I do not wish to distract you from your labours. I know you must have much to do at Shibden Hall as of late. However, I beseechingly request your company, it is a matter of some urgency. I find myself...unwell. It came on quite suddenly. Please, hurry.**  
  
 **Yours, Ann**  
  
She presses the letter into the hands of James, address on the front of the envelope.   
"To Shibden...for Anne." She forces out, the effort making her skin go cold. James frowns at her, starts to ask a question, but Ann shakes her head and nods back to the letter. He nods once, unsure, then leaves her to make her way back upstairs.   
  
Ann lays in bed, but she cannot lie still. Every inch of her that touches the sheet burns and itches, she can feel the irritation of her nightdress and her drawers against her skin, flushed and tender. She swears she can feel the air as it touches her face, feels everything, all at once, all too much, she's screaming still, locking away inside her head. She doesn't know how long she lays there, in silent torment.  
  
The door opens. She glances towards the door, and almost cries when Anne strides in, and closes the door softly behind her.

"Ann?" She says, her voice deep, loud, too much to hear. Ann covers her ears with her hands. That makes Anne pause, approach the bed slowly, quietly. "Ann?" She says again, much softer than before.

"Too much." She manages to get out, the words clawing their way through her throat. "It's too much, I can't."

"Can't what?" Anne sits on the bed, though doesn't make to touch her. She doesn't reply, but takes one of Anne's hands, places it gently against her cheek, and screws her eyes up in concentration.

"Ann, be reasonable now. Either tell me what's the matter or I shall have to shake it out of you."

"Too loud." Ann runs her fingers over the taller woman's hand, circling her first knuckle.

"What's too loud? What can I do?"

"Everything? Nothing? I don't know!" She nearly sobs, clutching at her chest again with one hand, still stroking Anne's hand with the other. "Please stay?" She asks finally, her voice small. "You make things quieter." Anne hesitates for a moment, then nods, pulling the blonde closer to her.

"Okay, my dear. I'll stay until you feel better. And then, we're going to have a talk, okay?" Ann nods into her chest. It takes over an hour before Ann can breathe properly again.


End file.
